From A Bottle
by Kate Matty
Summary: SLASH. Tony Stark invents a new kind of alcohol that can actually affect Captain America. You know where this is going.


**AUTHORS NOTES: to those following my TF2 fic 'Blowing Off Steam'. Yes, I'm still writing that, I'm just holding off posting the next chapter until I know how I'm wrapping it up **

**In the meantime, I saw 'The Avengers' and good god, the sexual tension. I just had to write this. **

**Enjoy. **

**Xxx**

**.**

**.**

**.**

"What is it, exactly?" Steve wrinkled his nose at the glass of amber liquid Tony was waving in front of him. It might have been brandy, were it not for the slight radioactive glow it was emitting.

Tony's eyes lit up at the prospect of being given a socially acceptable means of demonstrating his genius and he quickly launched into a very technical description of how he had altered the alcohol's chemical formula to create a version of alcohol that would actually affect Steve's physiology. Tony beamed as he rattled off chemical compounds and sciency-sounding words, clearly impressed with his own brilliance.

"Is it toxic?" Steve asked when Tony had finally settled down, taking the proffered glass and inhaling tentatively. He hadn't been much of a drinker even before his transformation, but he was certain brandy fumes weren't supposed to be quite so potent.

"To most people, yes." Tony answered. "To you, only a little. In the good way." he added hurriedly.

Steve did not drink from the glass.

"Oh for…" Before Steve could utter a word of protest, Tony had seized the glass and drained its contents.

"There, see? Not even… oh." Tony's eyes went wide and he staggered backwards a few paces, spluttering wildly, and for a moment Steve thought Tony was going to be sick. Then, Tony's hacking cough turned into a triumphant, wheezing laugh. "_Shit, _that's stronger than I thought. Effects are… quite rapid…" Tony alternated between blinking and frowning for a few moments. Then, deciding that he wasn't going to die, Tony poured a second glass for Steve.

"There… 'm a normal guy 'n I survived." Tony pressed the glass into Steve's hand a little more forcefully than necessary. Steve couldn't help laughing a little as Tony swayed forwards into Steve's weight. He was already pissed over just a finger of the stuff, but clearly not in any mortal peril.

_Well, if a physically ordinary man can survive… _Steve threw back his drink and swallowed.

It burned. Lord, how it burned. But the burn was satisfying in a strange way, warming Steve from his stomach through to his skin.

"'nother?" Tony was already pouring two more glasses, managing to spill most of the liquid over the table in the process. Steve hurriedly took both, genuinely worried that a second glass might actually kill his new drinking partner.

It took a few, and then a couple more, but Steve could feel the almost-forgotten sensation of inebriation slowly overtaking him. "I think it's working." Steve grinned stupidly as he registered the slight slur in his words. Yep, he was well on the road to getting plastered. God bless Stark Industries.

"Is it? Fantastic." Tony beamed from over his own glass of ordinary brandy. "If you don't die, I'll consider it a 100% success."

"And if I do?" Steve asked.

Tony smirked. "110% success."

Steve laughed, shoving Tony good-naturedly. He supposed he wasn't great at knowing his own strength when drunk, which would explain why Tony shot clear across the room, landing flat on his back.

"Fuck, sorry Tony, I didn't mean to…" Steve babbled, hurrying over to make sure he hadn't inadvertently caused Tony any injuries. When he reached Tony however, the man was giggling to himself, clearly uninjured, and Steve was so relieved he fell to the alpaca fur rug where Tony lay and started laughing too.

"I like this rug." Tony said suddenly, stretching luxuriously across the furry floor. "Where'd I get this?" he asked Steve, as though it were perfectly logical for Steve to know such a thing.

"Dunno." Steve fingered the inexplicably soft fur wonderingly, kicking off his shoes and socks so he could feel it between his toes. "s'nice."

"Mm." Tony wasn't really listening, rarely listened to anything other than the sound of his own voice. He was too busy watching Steve touch – no, _caress – _Tony's rug with his fingers and toes. Tony's mind helpfully supplied him with an idea of what else Steve might enjoy caressing.

Tony lifted his eyes to see that Steve was staring, unashamedly staring, at Tony's body. Well, the man was only human after all, Tony thought smugly, folding his arms behind his head so that his shirt rose up to treat Steve to a view of sculpted abdominals, with a dark trail of hair that lead promisingly into his pants. Steve didn't look away.

"Does that hurt?" Steve asked, pointing clumsily to Tony's chest. Ah. Yes. The Arc Reactor. Tony couldn't help feeling a little petulant as he realised Steve was more fascinated with the faint blue light under Tony's shirt than with his far more impressive abdominal muscles.

"Nah." Tony answered, plucking at the fabric over the contraption. "I forget it's there most of the time."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. Then…

"Can I see it?"

Tony waited a beat, then sat up with impossible quickness and slipped out of his shirt with far more grace than should have come from one so intoxicated.

"I meant you could lift… never mind." Steve flustered as Tony cast his shirt across the room, where he clearly intended to let it stay. Ten seconds ago, seeing Tony's Arc Reactor hadn't seemed like such a daunting idea. Now, with Tony bare-chested and lying next to him on the shaggy carpet…

Steve should have been staring at the futuristic technology embedded in a human chest. Surely, that should have been the most interesting thing Tony's body had to offer. But hard as Steve tried to focus on the blue light, his drunken gaze kept slipping to travel over Tony's muscles, over the dark hairs that Steve was finding strangely appealing, and down to the subtle bulge in Tony's pants.

"You can touch it if you want." Tony whispered.

Steve nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"The Reactor." Tony rapped his knuckles against the glowing device in his chest far rougher than Steve would have liked to handle something implanted in his own body. "Don't be shy."

Perhaps it was the imitation alcohol in his system, but for some reason drunkenly fiddling with advanced medical technology in his co-worker's chest seemed like a perfectly good idea. Steve slowly extended his hand and gently pressed his fingertips to the glowing blue glass.

They gasped in unison – Steve, because he was surprised by how warm the device was. He had expected it to feel cold and impersonal, but it was as warm as any human appendage. Steve kept touching the device, fascinated by how much a part of Tony it seemed to be. Which is when he realised that if this _was _a part of Tony, it was a part of Tony he had been idly caressing for the better part of a minute.

That's when Steve noticed that the chest he was currently touching was rising and falling gently with laboured breaths. He snuck a quick glance downstairs to see that the subtle bulge in Tony's pants wasn't terribly subtle any longer.

Steve glanced up to meet Tony's eyes, which were wide and unblinkingly fixed on Steve's face. They stared each other down at an impasse, one that Steve finally broke by straying his hand just slightly, until his fingertips made the barest contact with Tony's actual skin – it was a question and a request in one, and Tony answered both by seizing Steve by the shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

Steve moaned at the contact, rolling on top of Tony with ease. Now that his hands had been granted permission, they moved over every inch of Tony they could reach. Tony's own hands scrabbled uselessly at Steve's clothes, their usual clever dexterity greatly reduced by the alcohol consumed. Steve couldn't resist smirking as he tore his clothes from his own body as easily as if he had been dressed in tissue paper.

"Show off." Tony muttered, and the statement was so hypocritical Steve had to laugh. They giggled stupidly, the tension evaporating as Steve slid down to remove Tony's trousers with one fell swoop. Tony Stark's hard cock jutted proudly from it's thick nest of curls, and Steve found himself leaning in for a taste before his sense of common decency had time to argue.

"Oh, fuck…" Tony breathed, letting his head fall back as his eyes widened at the unexpected treatment from the Captain. "Thought you 40's types were supposed to be all repressed." He remarked dryly, before strong fingers crept up to pinch a nipple warningly. Tony Stark moaned then fell suddenly, miraculously silent.

Steve could feel Tony getting hotter and harder with every downward slide of lips and tongue, and just as Steve could feel the other man getting close, Tony wound his finger's in Steve's hair and gently tugged him away.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, running a hand up Tony's thigh, watching in awe as the man's cock gave a strong twitch at that simple contact.

"I want to feel you." Tony uttered breathlessly. Steve grinned and draped himself over Tony's body, guiding the other man's hand towards his own cock.

"So feel me." Steve encouraged, moaning his gratitude when Tony squeezed and gave him a few preliminary jerks.

"No, what I mean is…" Tony faltered, and Steve could sense him analysing the situation, whether or not to finish that sentence.

"I want to feel you _here._" Steve's eyes went wide with shock as he felt the head of his cock rub over tight, wrinkled flesh. Tony was positioning him at his entrance, opening his legs so that Steve was powerless to do anything but fall between them. He pushed his hips forward cautiously, stilling immediately when Tony's face tightened with pain.

_BEEP BOOP BEEP BOOP._

"Ahh!" Steve jumped as a strange machine suddenly appeared at their side, a metal claw clutching a bottle of something between its prongs. "What the fuck is that thing?"

Tony beamed at the metallic monstrosity. "Good boy." He praised, taking the bottle and making a shooing motion with his hand. The metallic beast wheeled away, beeping as though humming to itself.

"Where were we?" Tony continued, ignoring the horrified shock on Steve's face. Horrified shock that quickly melted into pleasure as Tony poured a liberal amount of the stuff over his fingers and wrapped them over Steve's erection, stroking him back to reality.

"Mm, yeah… that feels good, what is it?" Steve thought he could let Tony do this all night – whatever had been in that bottle, it was amazing.

Tony smirked as he briskly drew wet fingers over his entrance, slicking the area. "It's just lubricant, Steve. And it should make _this…_" Tony suddenly tilted his hips up, catching the head of Steve's cock in his passage "…so much easier."

Steve didn't answer. No, scratch that, he _couldn't _answer. Not when Tony's hands were splayed across his backside, pulling him further into that gloriously tight heat. Once fully sheathed, Steve stilled and went blank as though he'd completely forgotten how to have sex. All he knew right then was that this was the absolute best feeling in the world and he never wanted it to end.

But then Tony squirmed impatiently, and suddenly Steve remembered to rock his hips forwards and back, and _fuck _he had been wrong before, _this _was the best feeling in the world.

"T-Tony…" Steve grunted around the syllables, thankful to whatever faux-alcohol concoction was keeping him from tumbling over the edge immediately. He shifted a few times, trying to find an angle that would make Tony feel half as good as what Steve was experiencing. When the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist gave a very undignified squeal of pleasure, Steve knew he'd found a perfect mode of attack. He thrust into that spot brutally, ruthlessly, watching Tony Stark's brilliant mind unravel before his very eyes.

"Fuck, Steve, s-slow down… I'm too close, I'm going to come…" If Tony had thought that to be a deterrent, he wasn't as smart as he thought he was. His words only flared Steve's excitement, and the hips ramming into him picked up their pace, jabbing a battering assault on Tony's prostate.

"Oh… oh fuck, I'm going to…" Steve didn't even blink, not wanting to miss a moment of this. Steve felt Tony's walls clamp down around his cock at the same moment those chocolate-brown eyes squeezed shut against the unbearable pleasure. It felt like Tony was trying to swallow him, and Steve obligingly drove as deep as he could into Tony's spot, moaning appreciatively as wet warmth erupted between them. As Tony rode out his orgasm, Steve could have sworn he heard something that sounded suspiciously like 'Captain America'.

When the final pulses left Tony's cock, Steve seized the other mans ankles and pushed Tony's legs up in the air, allowing him to plunge deeper, faster, harder.

"I'm gonna come, Tony," Steve managed to grunt out a warning before he lost control of his hips and suddenly he was there, shouting out his pleasure as he rutted furiously into the willing, pliant body beneath him. Tony Stark made no objection, even as Steve nearly folded him in half, even as hot come flooded his body, even when 100 kilos of pure muscle collapsed on top of him.

"Did you call me 'Captain America' just now?" Steve mumbled into Tony's neck, and Tony _did _object to that, which he expressed with a hearty shove to Steve's chest. It did not dislodge the superhuman, but Steve chuckled and obligingly slipped to Tony's side, allowing his comrade to breathe.

"I'd never call you that, unless I was mocking you." Tony answered testily. "I must have been making fun of you."

Steve chuckled tiredly. "Yeah, that must have been it. Not the mind-blowing sex or anything."

Tony opened his mouth to utter a smart-mouthed comeback, then frowned when no witty vitriol spewed forward. Steve resisted the urge to punch the air in triumph – he'd literally fucked Tony Stark's brains out.

"Yeah well…" Tony grumbled, stretching out and wincing as his back cracked a little from having been rogered on a hard floor. "I was wrong about you, at any rate."

Steve frowned, turning his head questioningly. "About what?"

Tony gave a tired smirk, already resigned to sleeping on his gloriously defiled rug. "The most remarkable thing about you doesn't come from a bottle."

.

.

.

.

.

**Reviews Feed the Porn Muse **


End file.
